


Saying No

by Unsentimentalf



Series: Saying No [1]
Category: Robin Hood BBC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sheriff wants something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saying No

_ **Saying No** _

Title:Saying No  
Author: Unsentimental Fool  
Fandom: Robin Hood BBC  
Pairing: Sheriff/Guy  
Rating: NC 17  
Word Count: 3500  
Summary: The Sheriff wants something.  
Notes/Warnings: Slash, non-con, explicit

"No".

Not "The very thought of touching your flesh makes me want to throw up."

Not "Get away from me, you perverted, appalling man."

Not "If you come any closer I'll run you through."

Not "And I want to kill you just for suggesting it."

Guy wanted to say all of those things. But the man was his employer. He had thrown in his lot with the Sheriff in so many, irreparable ways.

So he just said no. Standing tall, looking out of the window of the Sheriff's high tower, not at the man in front of him. He schooled his face to be expressionless, forced his hand away from the hilt of his sword.

Vasey smiled, put a hand on his arm, whispered conspiratorially,

"You don't know what fun you're missing." Guy tried not to squirm, managed only to close his eyes. To have to put up with this was near unbearable.

The Sheriff ran a finger down the front of his black leather, stopping just before Guy would have had to hit him.

"Never mind, then. Back to business."

They discussed business. Financing of castle repairs, the costs of extra soldiers to deal with the increased hassle from the newly troublesome villagers. Guy relaxed into professionalism. This he could deal with; this he was good at.

Then Vasey looked at him again, sly, amused.

"I could always order you to do it."

Guy was well aware of that. It had been haunting his nightmares. So far the Sheriff had restricted himself to suggestions, innuendo. And Guy had said no. He had hoped that he was more valuable to the Sheriff than the man seemed to acknowledge; Vasey wouldn't want to force a confrontation that he might lose. Guy didn't want that confrontation, desperately.

There was nowhere else for him to go. Vasey has made that quite clear. No change of employer would be tolerated, not with Gisborne privy to so many secrets. The man had too many allies for Guy to kill him. There was his own future; all tied in with the Sheriff's plans; power, wealth, the wife he longed for. All safe, all assured, as long as he didn't fall out with Vasey.

So he tried to look unconcerned. "I wouldn't advise that." Not a threat- one didn't threaten this man. Just a suggestion that maybe calling his bluff was not the best move, right now. For either of them.

And Vasey turned away with a shrug. "Maybe you're right." He didn't appear to hear Guy's sharply exhaled breath behind him.

Guy had a bad night, after that conversation. He'd drunk a little too much, talked one of the prettier serving maids into his bed. Needed something soft to hold onto, someone more or less innocent to dominate. But just knowing that man was in the next room was enough to affect his performance. In the end he'd sent the girl away unravished, with money and threats. He wasn't sure if either would prevent her gossiping, but it was all he could do.

After that he lay awake, worrying. He couldn't run, didn't want to. His future, the Loxley estates, and Marian all depended on him staying in Nottingham. If he killed the Sheriff he'd be caught, and even if he wasn't the man's death was likely to bring his own downfall in its wake. The Sheriff's plots required the Sheriff; Vasey was very careful about that. And he didn't like the alternative.

It was not that he was an innocent. He had been squired to an older man; he came to know what was required. But that was more a rite of passage, expected of a young man, and his knight had been decent enough, in his way. Now Guy was a man grown, with self respect and his own passionate desires. He didn't want to play boy to anyone.

And it was not just anyone. Vasey made his skin crawl, in all sorts of uncomfortable ways. This wasn't about desire, it was about humiliation. He didn't want to think about what he might have to do, what the Sheriff might say to others. Guy had no intention of becoming known as the Sheriff's catamite. What if Marian heard about it? If Loxley did?

Morning arrived at last, brought something that he thought might be a temporary solution. A delegation from the borough of Catton, on the other side of the forest. A village that had brought in a poor harvest, barely paid their taxes, had survived the winter remarkably well. Lord Brueton suspected they were being assisted by the outlaws, wanted Something Done.

Normally Guy would have dismissed this plea out of hand. The "giving to the poor" bit of Robin's agenda was not really his concern. If Brueton's villagers were surviving a tough winter, why should Brueton care? Guy's soldiers were better deployed to sort out the more troublesome "stealing from the rich" bit.

But Catton was some way away, and this was an excuse to leave the castle for a few days. He presented Brueton's case to the Sheriff, talked it up a bit. Then, casually, he said "I've decided to take some men and go myself. This might be the lead to the outlaws that I've been looking for."

The Sheriff looked at him, raised his eyebrows. He tried not to blush. So the man could guess why he wants to be away; big deal. The Sheriff could hardly object to him doing his job.

Vasey didn't object. He thought this a splendid idea. In fact, he declared, he would come himself.

Guy stared at him, open mouthed. The Sheriff hated leaving the castle. Had no interest in his soldiers' missions. And the forest was infested with outlaws. He argued, heatedly. What about the risks, of death, of capture and ransom? What about the discomfort? Who would run Nottingham with both of them gone?

The Sheriff was adamant. He would visit his friend Lord Brueton, see how Gisborne's operation was carried out. They would go round the forest, if going through it was too dangerous. He patted Guy on the arm, the way he had the previous day. Consider it a practical examination, he'd said.

Two days later, they left. They travelled slowly; Vasey was in a carriage. He invited Guy to join him but Guy pleaded the need to be seen riding with his men.

They stopped for the first night at an inn. Vasey hired a room for himself and Guy, one big bed. Guy stayed up long after all the others, drinking in the taproom. He stumbled to bed only half pretending drunkenness, fell straight asleep, fully clothed. In the morning he was unmolested, but had to endure a long lecture from the Sheriff on the perils of drink, delivered in front of his men. He rode behind the carriage all day, seething.

Lord Brueton welcomed Vasey with surprise and pleasure, delighted that his request had been deemed so important. Vasey was given the guest bedroom, feasted lavishly. Brueton seemed to consider Guy no more than a common soldier, and the Sheriff didn't bother speak up for him so Guy was, to his great relief, left to sleep in the stables with his men. Brueton was just the sort of man who would complain that his peasants weren't dying on cue- fat, aggrieved, selfish. His daughters were plain and arrogant, the servants bad tempered. Guy wasn't enjoying the trip.

The following day Guy rode out with a dozen men to the village of Ansley. The Sheriff chose to stay in comfort at the manor.

The village was a poor enough place- a dozen huts and a few scrawly animals. When all the villagers were rounded up Guy could see a couple of very young children and three elderly men. With the harvest that Brueton told him they had last year, only the strongest adults and children would have survived. He sent some of the soldiers to search the hovels while the villagers watched him with fear and resignation. God, how could they live like this? It was all filthy.

Guy dismounted, walked to a young woman, seized her babe. She wailed, beat at him, was held back by a soldier. Other men were dragging out grain from a couple of the houses- three or four sacks at most. He propped the sobbing child in the crook of his leather-clad arm, addressed the crowd.

"Robin Hood brought you this grain. Thanks to him, your old people and your small children survived the winter. No doubt you're grateful."

They gazed at him, confused. A couple of the dumber ones nodded.

"But Robin doesn't own your lives. Lord Brueton does. I'm acting in his name, and now I'm going to take it away again. I'm going to take the grain, and then I'm going to kill the ones that should have starved. Like this child."

He held it up with one hand round the back of its neck. The crowd were stunned into silence.

"That seems fair, doesn't it? You're just going to be back to where you were before Hood interfered."

He had their attention, but he wondered. Were they too stupid to follow this?

"But you can choose. You can choose to have the babies, the old people, all the village survive, just as Hood wanted. You can even choose to keep this grain, and then you won't go hungry until the next harvest. You can all win."

He tossed the child back to its snivelling mother.

"All you have to do is tell me everything you know about Robin Hood. Then Lord Brueton will generously let you keep everything the outlaws gave you."

It worked. Not that they knew much. But they did have a place in the forest where they could leave signals for Hood's gang. Guy rode out with a villager to the spot, about half an hour's ride away. He would remember this for tomorrow.

When he returned to the village, the soldiers were ready to leave. They looked at the grain. "Should we take that, my Lord?"

"No." It would be a better remembered story if the village kept the grain. He liked the symmetry of it. He wondered what Loxley would think, when he heard. He shook his head, annoyed at himself. He spent far too long recently wondering what that man would think.

Back at Catton, Guy related the day's events to the Sheriff and Brueton, feeling quite pleased with himself. Brueton was sceptical, abrupt.

"What good is this place going to do? The outlaws aren't there now, are they?"

Guy explained that he intended to set up an ambush at the place. No more than a couple of men, so that they could go unobserved. They could catch whichever outlaw checks the spot, then use him to lure Robin in.

"Clever." Vasey raised his eyebrows. "I must see this." He looks straight at Guy. "We'll go together tomorrow morning."

Not again! Guy pleaded with the man to reconsider. A couple of arrows could do for both of them. This was astoundingly reckless. The Sheriff was unmoved.

"You and I both know that an arrow could kill me walking round my own castle. If Hood wants to shoot me he doesn't have to travel across the forest to do it."

Guy's argument about the risk of capture received equally short shrift. "Get me a bow, Gisborne, and my sword. I'm coming. After all, I have you to protect me, don't I? You can manage that, I take it?"

The next morning they rode out, leaving the horses a mile or so away from the signal place Guy led the way to a small cliff overhanging the checkpoint, unpleasantly conscious of the man behind him. There was no-one about.

"What do we do now, Gisborne?" Dressed as a soldier, Vasey seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Wait." Guy was focussed on the task, ignoring the other man. He settled almost silently into the leaf litter, drawing his sword in readiness, and the Sheriff crashed down at his side.

"Good. We need to talk." God, the man was loud. Guy hushed him. Vasey changed to a stage whisper.

"While we're out here, all on our own, we could always..." He raised his eyebrows, suggestively.

"No." Guy didn't want to have this conversation again.

"We've been here before." The Sheriff was savouring the words. "What's next? Oh yes, I remember. I ask nicely, you say no, I order you to do it."

Guy froze in anger and astonishment. What was Vasey playing at? Could he have picked a more dangerous time to push his luck?

A dozen people had heard their argument, Guy telling the Sheriff how dangerous this mission was, the Sheriff insisting on coming nonetheless. If Guy went back now, with some scratches, a tale of encountering outlaws, and the Sheriff's dead body, not one person would suspect him.

Maybe he should just pretend he hadn't heard.

"Come now, Guy. You heard me. I'm commanding you. Put away that sword and start undressing." The Sheriff's voice was still playful. Vasey had his own sword out, was prodding Guy with it's tip. Not dangerous, just irritating.

"Or are you planning to do something else with that sword?"

Guy turned his head, caught Vasey's gaze. There was a stone cold glint in the man's eyes. Guy was suddenly sure that Vasey had known exactly what he was doing.

There would never be a starker choice than here. Vasey wasn't going to leave Guy the fig leaf of necessity to cover his humiliation. if Guy couldn't bring himself to kill the man here, where it should be easy to get away with it, he was lost forever.

Guy could have slit the throat of that babe the previous day, without more than a twinge of conscience. He'd killed better men for far less insult. He looked with loathing on the man who thought he could manipulate and humiliate him.

With sudden wild pleasure he thought that Vasey had miscalculated this time. He was going to be free. He tightened the grip on his sword, tensed his muscles. He could roll over, stab Vasey in the neck, where the mail didn't cover him. One swift move.

But he couldn't do it. He realised that he'd made his decision years before. It was too late now. His entire life, his future, rested with the Sheriff. He was nothing without this man; an outlaw, a mercenary. Everything would be lost; Loxley, Marian, he'd be less than Hood....

The Sheriff had seen the defeat in his eyes, the release of the sword hilt. His smile was twisted. He leaned towards Guy, both still lying on the grass. His lips caressed Guy's ear, whispered obscenities, in delighted tones. Guy lay motionless, revulsion warring with resignation. To his horror, he could feel stirrings in response to the hissed instructions, descriptions. He started to move, woodenly, to remove his own clothes; leather, mail, undergarments. The Sheriff watched him, hungrily.

Guy had never thought too closely about what Vasey might do for kicks. He didn't seem to be interested in women, and had only a passing reaction to pretty boys. This intensity, this naked desire, was unsettling. He could hear Vasey breathing heavily, in the gaps between sentences. It should have given Guy a feeling of control, yet he felt nothing but vulnerable.

He stood, naked and cold, struggling for a sneer. He despised this man- remember that and he could get through this.

"Kneel down." It was still a whisper. He obeyed, and Vasey walked behind him. He felt a hand grasp his right wrist, clothed and mailed body pressed up against his back, knees crushing his calves. He was near flaccid again.

"You're not really in the swing of this yet, are you?" The wrist pulled his unresisting hand down to his groin. "I'm sure you can do something about that." Silence. Guy didn't move.

"Come on, Guy. You wouldn't want us to fall out." Reluctantly, his hand closed around his own cock.

"Better." Vasey's hand guided his wrist up and down. It was utterly creepy, but his cock responded nonetheless. He didn't fight it; best to get this over with. At least Vasey wasn't touching him there directly. The other hand was roaming over his body, twisting his nipples, splaying fingers through the hairs on his chest, pulling his chin up so that his body arched outwards.

His hand moved faster as he blocked out all thoughts of the person behind him, fantasised instead. If he didn't look, those hands could be someone else's. His breathing speeded up, his head thrown back of its own accord.

And his hand was pulled back to his side. His left hand was captured and yanked back as well. He made a small noise of protest, remembered where he was, pulled himself together. His balls ached.

"That's more like it." The Sheriff stood, weight off the back of Guy's calves. Pulled his hands behind his back, looped rope over them. Guy gave them a quick twist, testing. In time he could work free, but he wasn't meant to be fighting. "Marian," he thought to himself, a reminder.

Vasey walked round in front of him, looked with interest at his erection. "You seem to be in the mood, now. My turn."

He moved up to stand directly in front of Guy, unlaced his breeches. His cock was long, thick, dark, with thick hair at its base. It protruded horizontally from his clothing.

" I presume you know what to do. I understand from the servants that it's one of your favourites. It's not so different from the other end, I'm sure. Let's hope you have more luck than that poor girl a few nights ago."

Guy bit his tongue. Committed now. Closed his eyes, leaned forward, took the end of the cock in his mouth, fought down nausea. The Sheriff's hands locked around the back of his head, pulled him forwards. The cock thrust to the back of his throat, and he gagged, unable for a moment to breathe. For a second the pressure on the back of his head released and he pulled away, then it was back.

After a couple of minutes he was in a rhythm, surprised that he no longer seemed to care. Get it over with. Pretend it was someone else- not Marian, obviously. He carefully didn't give his fantasy a name. His own cock still ached but his hands were tied.

Salty taste in his mouth. He pushed himself further forward, eager to finish this, and the hands moved to his shoulders, pushed him away as the Sheriff moved back. Vasey's cock was further erect, shining with saliva where it pushed out of his breeches and the man's eyes were shining.

"Very good. Anyone would think you'd been practising for me."

He pulled his breeches down further. Rummaged in a pocket, brought out a small vial.

"Just one minute. I'm sure you can wait. Keep thinking of that woman of yours. Or anyone else that you might want to fuck."

He reached behind him, wriggled. Guy pretended not to be watching.

"That should do." The Sheriff walked over to a huge fallen tree, leaned over it. Guy could see his arse, glistening with whatever he'd put on it. "Come on, my pet. Time to perform. Earn your fairly expensive keep."

Guy's cock ached. Disgusted with himself, the Sheriff, he approached. The man's hand reached back, guided his cock into the tight, slippery hole. Anger flared and he thrust as hard as he could. rewarded by a groan from beneath him. Again and again he pushed, pulled, without regard for the tender flesh. It was hot, tight, incredible. He half heard hoofbeats, paid them no mind, as he came violently. Beneath him the Sheriff's body was shaking.

Guy pulled away, feeling sick. Twisted his way out of the rope around his wrists, dressed without speaking. The Sheriff was smiling.

"I told you that you'd enjoy it, really." He looked around. "I don't think your outlaws are coming. Let's go back to Brueton's place. I have a very big bed there. You'd like it."

Guy couldn't help himself. "Not again. No,"

Vasey reached out a proprietorial hand. patted his chin. "My dear boy, you're mine. That means when I want, where I want. How I want."

The Sheriff was already walking back towards the horses. Guy strapped on his sword belt, picked up the weapon. He could still kill him and get away with it. No-one need know about any of this.

He slammed the sword back into its sheath. He'd figure some way out of this, without losing everything. No doubt Vasey would tire of the thing soon enough. Just a bit of patience. For the sake of everything he's wanted all his life, he can put up with this. Provided no-one else knew.

He thought of the Sheriff's bed and deep inside, he was screaming.


End file.
